Run: 2025-11-18-01KACPB4TVF99DAC7RVVQ7S3F1

Here's the scene written as a voice sheet, capturing the cozy mystery tone and the details you provided: Marie is sitting at a charming, slightly rustic café table, a half-empty mug of something warm beside her. Her fingers are tracing the edges of her camera, a high-quality DSLR, and her brow is furrowed as she reviews an image on the screen, a breathtaking panorama of autumn-kissed trees. The scent of cinnamon and brewing coffee hangs in the air. Hunter, looking determined and a little out of place in his crisply pressed shirt amongst the café's more relaxed clientele, approaches her table. He clears his throat, his gaze direct. Hunter: "Excuse me, ma'am? Mind if I ask you a few questions about something that happened in town yesterday?" Marie looks up, her eyes wide, taking in his serious expression. She quickly closes her camera, a flash of apprehension crossing her face. Marie: "Oh! Euh… je ne comprends pas. Excusez-moi?" Hunter blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. He tries again, speaking slowly. Hunter: "The… the incident yesterday. Down by the old mill pond. Did you… see anything?" Marie shakes her head, her lips pressed together. Her eyes dart nervously around the café, as if seeking an explanation or an escape. Marie: "Je… je suis vraiment désolée, monsieur. Je ne parle pas anglais. Je ne comprends pas ce que vous dites." She shivers slightly, drawing her arms around herself. "Il s'est passé quelque chose de très, très inquiétant hier. Terrible." Hunter stares at her, a muscle in his jaw clenching. He gestures vaguely with his hand, trying to convey his meaning through body language. Hunter: "Mill pond. Person. Gone. Poof." He makes a vanishing motion with his hands, hoping to clarify. Marie watches him, her expression shifting from confusion to a deep, troubled sadness. She gestures towards her camera. Marie: "Oui, oui. J'étais là, avec mon appareil photo. Près de l'eau. J'ai vu… quelque chose. Ce n'était pas bien. Pas du tout." Her voice is hushed, a tremor running through it. "La peur… C'était dans l'air. Et la femme… elle a disparu. Comme ça." She snaps her fingers, a look of profound distress on her face. Hunter frowns. He can tell she’s genuinely distressed, but he’s lost. He pulls out his small notebook. Hunter: "Can you… write it down? Anything?" He offers her a pen, but she just shakes her head. Marie: "Je pourrais dessiner, peut-être… Mais ce n'est pas clair dans ma tête. Juste… une ombre. Et le silence, après." She grips her camera tightly, her knuckles white. "C'est horrible. La ville est si belle, mais…" She trails off, wringing her hands. Hunter sighs, running a hand over his short hair. This was going nowhere fast. He glances at his watch, then back at Marie, who is now looking down at her camera, her eyes glazed with a distant fear. Just as he’s about to try another tactic, his phone vibrates insistently in his pocket. He pulls it out, his expression instantly serious as he sees the caller ID. Hunter: "Hold on a second." He answers the phone, his voice dropping to a low rumble as he speaks. "Hunter here. What do you got? ... Alright. I'm on my way. Be there in five." He quickly pockets his phone, his no-nonsense attitude returning in full force. He gives Marie a brief, apologetic nod. "Look, I gotta go. Emergency. But… I'm gonna need to talk to you again. Someone who can… translate." He gestures between them with a frustrated sigh. "Stay in town, okay? Don't go anywhere." Marie watches him, her eyes wide as he speaks, understanding only the urgency in his tone and the abruptness of his departure. Marie: "D'accord… Bonjour, alors." Her voice is small, still shaky. Hunter gives a curt nod, already halfway out of the cafe, leaving Marie alone once more with her camera, the weight of a recent, terrifying memory, and the lingering scent of apples from Alborn’s famous orchards.